A Walk Down Memory Lane
I purged this weekend. My closets have been driving me crazy and I finally got tired of bracing myself when I opened them, so yesterday I decided to get rid of clothes that I’ll never wear again and clutter and that no longer served a purpose. It’s amazing what you find in the the dark crevices of “oh! I forgot I had that!” It’s my fault they’re like that. One, because I have a sentimental attachment to just about everything and two, I’m ADD and it’s so much easier to put it where I can’t see it than it is to decide if I really need/want it. The solution to that problem is cram “it” in a storage container and put it in a closet all the while convincing myself that I’ve “organized”. The solution has become a bigger problem because I’ve ran out of cramming space and I got tired of stuff falling on me so I spent yesterday purging.
I started with a “Keep” pile, a “Donate” pile and a lawn and garden bag because there were several mystery tubs and I honestly didn’t know what I was going to find. There were also tubs, way back in the back, that held my most precious possessions. Some of them hadn’t been opened in years and some of them were painfully but lovingly filled in 2019. I don’t consider those particular tubs clutter but I knew they could be consolidated to take up less space, so I took a deep breath and started my project. It was therapeutic adding more and more to the “Donate” pile and trash bag and stacking empty tubs on top of each other! I sent Weston several pictures of things that I had saved from his childhood and loved seeing the excitement in his responses. I could see I was making headway and I knew my future self was patting me on the back for taking care of tomorrow’s headache. I actually enjoyed the process but I had strategically avoided those tubs way in the back because I knew that the contents weren’t going into any stack or bag and that they didn’t just hold items. They held memories of someone I couldn’t share the memories with. I couldn’t text the photos and ask “hey, remember this?” or call and say “you’re not going to believe what I just found!”
Yeah, I knew the bittersweet memories those tubs held, but I had forgotten about the ones on the very bottom.
The football. The baseball caps. The hula girl collection. The pocket knife that his grandpa gave him. The Celtics sweatshirt. The empty Diet Dr. Pepper bottle that was saved because he bought it for me with his first Navy paycheck. The can of Axe and bottle of cologne. His Navy blues. His medals. Countless high school IDs because he lost one every two weeks and then found the one he had lost. His sketch pads and the book he was reading. His Bible. His passport. The handmade blanket and handwoven hammock he brought back from his mission trip to Central America. His favorite boots that everyone made fun of.
Yeah, I knew the bittersweet memories those tubs held, but I had forgotten about the ones on the very bottom.
The outfit he came home from the hospital in. The blanket my baby sister made for him. The pajamas he wore during the long colicky nights. His first Christmas onesie. His first pair of walkers. His first Razorback shirt. The Winnie the Pooh overalls. The “Daddy’s Lil Hunting Buddy” tee. The Big Bird he wouldn’t put down. The t-ball hat with only two victory pins. The “I’m a Big Brother” tee. His pre-K cap and gown.
I smiled as I went through each and every item and surpassingly it didn’t hurt my heart. Until today. I think the sense of accomplishment I had after cleaning up that mess carried me through the rest of yesterday and last night, but today…
Today I woke up with a heaviness that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I tried to keep yesterday’s momentum going so I could complete some items I had placed on my own honey-do list, but the more I worked the heavier I became. Physically I was fine and emotionally I felt the same as yesterday, but the get up and go was gone so I dozed on the couch. When I woke up I realized I wasn’t done with the great Spring purge of 2024. I had purged my closets but I needed to purge the pain that I bury so deep that I don’t allow myself to notice it. And so I did. I allowed myself to cry. Really cry.
So many memories of my precious baby boy were stored in blue tubs at the back of a closet under more tubs that held the last I have of him. I have the shoes that he took his first steps in and the shoes he took his last, but I. Don’t. Have. Him.
My days are beautiful and full of love and purpose. But I. Don’t. Have. Him.
I have learned to live without him, as much as a mother can, because I know that one day I will see the boy that wore the walkers and the boots again.
Until then, I have the tubs way in the back of the closet and a heart full of memories.
